


Many Halloweens

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: my harry potter crackfics & unfinished tales [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:56:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: Halloween has never been a good day for Harry Potter ever since that fateful night in 1981. After becoming the Master of Death his Halloween luck only gets worse...Prequel to "Not quite as planned"





	Many Halloweens

The first Halloween it had happened, Harry and Ginny had been driving from the muggle airport to greet Hermione and her parents, newly returned from Australia.

It was a few days shy of six months from the Battle of Hogwarts. The rented land rover never made it back. Thankfully they'd gotten it from a place run by a muggleborn so he understood that sometimes, weird magic shit just happens.

In that world, they wanted him to fight a very sane Voldemort who never made Horcruxes but had managed to kill and steal from Nicolas Flamel. In that exact order.

He and Ginny had destroyed the stone and used a rapid aging curse to kill him together.

When they got back, Ginny broke up with him.

 

The second Halloween it had happened, it was a year after the first time.

He still didn't remember it clearly, as he'd been very drunk at the time and at a muggle costume party with a sweet half-blood from Godric's Hollow. Cindy? Candy? Clarice? Something with a C, he was sure of it.

That time, he thinks, if he really tries to think about it hard enough, he can almost remember what he would look like as a meek and mild Hufflepuff in a world run by Voldemort.

Sort of.

What he DOES remember clearly is drunkenly slurring Avada Kedavra into something completely different that resulted in a Dark Lord being turned into a very angry red eyed rabbit that, he assumes, currently sits in an Azkaban-like petting zoo.

He's pretty certain that actually happened.

 

By the tenth time it's happened, Harry couldn't figure out why it keeps happening and there's a world out there where he was accidentally summoned across time and space so that a boy named Albus Severus Potter can have a good shout at his dad without his dad actually finding out about it.

What Harry does is give the kid ad his friend a lecture about not diving into dark summoning rituals and trying to hide them from their fathers who now were glaring angrily at all three of them from the doorway.

It took a month and a half for a bizarro Draco Malfoy to get the right ritual to send him back home.

 

By the fiftieth time it's happened, Harry's realized he doesn't age like everyone else and that's just not on.

The Hermione he meets does what any Hermione always did best and comes back to him with research while he meets his first ever Dark Lord Harry Potter.

It doesn't end pretty.

By the time he gets home, he still can't decide if it was murder or suicide to kill a doppelganger.

 

Just after his fifty-first adventure being forcibly removed from his own comfortable universe, defeating yet another variation of Voldemort, this time with a pet Albus Dumbledore at his beck and call, Death has decided to show itself.

Only to quit.

Because someone left a "mangled soul fetus in the lobby and it refuses to admit it's dead and I'm fucking sick of this shit Master just deal with it already."

So when Harry finally decides to look deeper into this whole Master of Death thing and finds himself in the blindingly white otherworldly version of King's Cross station, he finds not one but eight weird and mangled soul fetus creatures waiting for him.

That is the weirdest Halloween Harry Potter has ever had. Somehow he convinces them to sort of cobble themselves together which is no small feat considering four of them want to kill him. They manage, though. And since the resulting entity still refuses to admit it's dead and just move the fuck on, Harry decides to offer it a job.

On the condition that it has to call him **my lord** since technically, he would be his master.

Deciding he would rather suffer a minor indignity than face the hellfires that surely await him after every terrible act he has ever committed. Besides, if he is to be bound to the stupid boy again, surely an opportunity to repay this affront to the great Lord Voldemort would present itself in time. He was, if nothing else, now a very patient man.

 

After the seventieth time Harry Potter is whisked away in the dead of night on Halloween, the new Death is rather annoyed.

When Harry returns and tells him of meeting a version of them that actually worked together to take over the world, Lord Voldemort is at first horrified that there exists a version of them that could actually get along of their own free will.

Of course, it also raises the philosophical question of whether a Horcrux, if strong enough to come to life in a body of it's own would be committing murder or suicide if it killed the original, main portion of the soul.

Certainly Death had been intrigued by what this other Potter must have been like with the influence of his own first Horcrux behind the boy.

 

On the one hundred and first Halloween, the Master of Death had decided he would make absolutely no plans for that day. Other than being kidnapped against his will of course, as had been the habit for the last century.

On this particular trip he was actually given a choice in the matter and spent all of Halloween sitting and watching the spinning vortex that had opened up in his bathroom mirror.

By the time Voldemort had begrudgingly given up fighting the summons his so called Master had sent out for him, Harry had conjured two folding chairs - common muggle contraptions - for the pair of them to sit in as he tossed wads of paper through the hole in space and time.

"What in Morgana's name are you doing, Potter?" he asked as he had seated himself beside him. A wad of parchment returned and Harry scooped it up and read it before scribbling on another paper and throwing it in to reply. "Are you passing notes like common first years?"

"Well apparently they tried to send someone through to find someone to help them stop Albus from taking over the world but that didn't end well."

"What? Albus, a Dark Lord?"

"Stranger things have happened," Harry replied as more notes were passed back and forth. Then, the portal closed and the pair of them were staring at their reflections in the bathroom mirror.

"Tom-"

"Potter-"

"Oh shut it. We're not out reaping souls at the moment. In case you haven't noticed I haven't punished you for calling me Potter yet," he said, glaring at the reflection of the snake-like man in the mirror. "And please wear your own face. You know that one always unsettles me."

"As it's meant to, _my lord_ ," he hissed in annoyance at him.

"You can suffer the indignity of me calling you Tom for one bloody evening Tom." He waited, the red eyes glaring at him as the monstrous visage melted away to reveal the more handsome man Tom Riddle had once been when he'd been alive. "Thank you," Harry said, genuinely meaning it. "Now you won't scare the muggles while we're out."

"No."

"Oh yes."

"Potter I'm not doing it."

"Look, I wasn't sucked into another world tonight and you've been getting out of this for over a hundred years. You're going, and you're going to enjoy yourself."

"But they're ghosts-"

"And I promised Sir Nick that I'd be at his death-day party. Unless you'd like to be the guest of honor at my mom and dad's death-day party-"

"I really hate you."

"But not as much as you love not going to Hell," the mischievous Master of Death grinned brightly in the mirror.

 

"You can't just go killing everyone I bring back to the flat, Tom!"

"Then stop bringing muggles home, Harry, and I won't have to keep killing them!"

It was the one hundred and twenty-fifth Halloween since that first one Harry had been dragged across worlds with Ginny.

"Can you at least wait until AFTER I've had a chance to sleep with them?!" Harry had growled angrily, glaring at the Dark Lord turned Death who had killed quite a handsome young man Harry had brought home from a party for a bit of fun.

Harry had stormed off to change out of his costume - the muggle idea of a wizard, funnily enough - when he started feeling something like a port key take hold. "Fuck! Not again!" he shouted, dragging himself back to his closet door to glare at the red eyed Death standing by his bed and the dead body. "At least get it out of my bed!"

And then he was gone.

The Master of Death forced to play Hero again stopped only long enough to get the barest details from that world's James and Lily Potter before he set out to utterly crush the opposing faction. Admittedly, he could have been a bit gentler with that world's Peter Pettigrew as he'd rigorously "interrogated" him but honestly Harry hadn't been laid in three years because Death kept killing anyone he tried to sleep with like some deranged ex-boyfriend.

Using his mastery over Death had yielded a very short Horcrux hunt followed by a rather messy final confrontation with the possessed body of Abraxas Malfoy of all people.

When Harry had returned to the clearing in the Forbidden Forest where the Potters and Headmistress Flitwick (formerly McGonogall, for all that it mattered to Harry) had summoned a Savior from across the great divide to save them all, he was still picking chunks of flesh out of his hair and off his bloodied robes.

They sent him back without complaint after he recounted, rather graphically, how he dealt with their Dark Lord problem.

Upon returning to his closet, still covered in blood, he was pleased to see the dead body had been removed from his bed, but was annoyed to find a former Dark Lord stretched out there instead reading a book and waiting patiently for him.

Harry hadn't bothered to clean himself up and glared at him. "Not a fucking word, Tom," he snarled when the other man moved his legs so Harry could flop down onto his bed for a hard earned rest.

"You know," Death said in amusement. "I can't really touch anyone else without killing them."

"Not today, Tom."

"And you can't die."

"I said not today, Tom."

"Of course, _my Lord_."

 

On the one hundred and twenty sixth Halloween, Death and it's Master had just finished collecting a rather slippery soul that kept evading Death at every turn. In a strange, perverse sense of celebration they had a rather vigorous round of angry hate sex in the supply closet of the office building they'd cornered the old witch in.

That was the first time they'd been swept up together in the strange force that always seemed to decide when some idiot sought out a savior to help them, it was always HIM instead of some other poor sod from another dimension.

In the words of THAT world's Hermione Granger, "I'm actually kind of glad Bellatrix gouged my eyes out now."

Needless to say, that world's Harry, a sniveling and spineless whelp of a boy, was scarred for life seeing a naked Dark Lord and a naked other him having it off. It didn't help that just to spite the Master of Death, Death had refused to shift out of his more unsettling snake-man form.

They didn't spend long there, deciding it was just easier to steal the scroll with the spell on it and send themselves back home than to deal with another, saner Voldemort.

 

It was the one hundred and sixty-eighth Halloween that the Master of Death decided to try and get ahead of the game. He found a spell that would summon someone from elsewhere in the hopes that if HE did it this time, then HE wouldn't be the one dragged across time and space.

Apparently it had failed, sort of. What had happened was he ended up sent one place while ANOTHER Master of Death Harry Potter ended up in his own.

By the time it had been worked out and the two Masters of Death had been switched back to their own worlds, Harry had sat down with a bottle of, well he wasn't quite sure but it had a nice burn to it, and Death. "They were... married. It was really unsettling."

"He called me his... Voldiebear." Death took the bottle and had himself a nice big swallow.

"Yeah? Well at least you didn't end up opening your eyes to find yourself passionately making out with a snake monster," Harry had replied, taking the bottle back. " _My dear_ ," he sneered.

"Promise me that the day I ever give you a tender look, you'll cut my head off. Won't kill me, but might just teach me a lesson."

"Of course, _my lord_ ," Voldemort sneered back.


End file.
